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And, while with all a mother's love

She from the lofty rocks above
Sent forth a cry forlorn,

The Lamb, still swimming round and round,
Made answer to that plaintive sound.

When he had learnt what thing it was,
That sent this rueful cry; I ween,
The Boy recover'd heart, and told
The sight which he had seen.

Both gladly now deferr'd their task;
Nor was there wanting other aid-
A Poet, one who loves the brooks
Far better than the sages' books,
By chance had thither stray'd;

And there the helpless Lamb he found
By those huge rocks encompass'd round.

He drew it gently from the pool,
And brought it forth into the light:
The Shepherds met him with his charge,
An unexpected sight!

Into their arms the Lamb they took,

Said they, « He's neither maim'd nor scarr'd.»
Then up the steep ascent they hied,
And placed him at his Mother's side;
And gently did the Bard

Those idle Shepherd-boys upbraid,

And bade them better mind their trade.

TO H. C. SIX YEARS OLD.

O THOU! whose fancies from afar are brought; Who of thy words dost make a mock apparel, And fittest to unutterable thought

The breeze-like motion and the self-born carol;
Thou faery Voyager! that dost float

In such clear water, that thy Boat
May rather seem

To brood on air than on an earthly stream;
Suspended in a stream as clear as sky
Where earth and heaven do make one imagery!
O blessed Vision! happy Child!

That art so exquisitely wild,

I think of thee with many fears

For what may be thy lot in future years.

I thought of times when Pain might be thy guest, Lord of thy house and hospitality! And Grief, uneasy Lover! never rest

But when she sate within the touch of thee.

Oh! too industrious folly!

Oh! vain and causeless melancholy!

Nature will either end thee quite;

Or, lengthening out thy season of delight,
Preserve for thee, by individual right,

A young Lamb's heart among the full-grown flocks.
What hast Thou to do with sorrow,

Or the injuries of to-morrow?

Thou art a Dew-drop, which the morn brings forth,

Ill fitted to sustain unkindly shocks;

Or to be trail'd along the soiling earth!

A gem that glitters while it lives,

And no forewarning gives;

But, at the touch of wrong, without a strife
Slips in a moment out of life.

INFLUENCE OF NATURAL OBJECTS

IN CALLING FORTH AND STRENGTHENING THE IMAGI NATION IN BOYHOOD AND EARLY YOUTH.

[This extract is reprinted from THE FRIEND, an unpublished Poem.]

WISDOM and Spirit of the Universe!

Thou soul, that art the Eternity of thought!
And givest to forms and images a breath
And everlasting motion! not in vain,
By day or star-light, thus from my first dawn
Of childhood didst thou intertwine for me
The passions that build up our human soul;
Not with the mean and vulgar works of Man,—
But with high objects, with enduring things,
With life and nature; purifying thus
The elements of feeling and of thought,
And sanctifying by such discipline
Both pain and fear,-until we recognise
A grandeur in the beatings of the heart.

Nor was this fellowship vouchsafed to me
With stinted kindness. In November days,
When vapours rolling down the valleys made
A lonely scene more lonesome; among woods
At noon; and mid the calm of summer nights,
When, by the margin of the trembling Lake,
Beneath the gloomy hills, I homeward went
In solitude, such intercourse was mine:

T was mine among the fields both day and night,
And by the waters, all the summer long.

And in the frosty season, when the sun

Was set, and, visible for many a mile,
The cottage windows through the twilight blazed,
I heeded not the summons:-happy time
It was indeed for all of us; for me

It was a time of rapture!-Clear and loud
The village clock toll'd six-I wheel'd about,
Proud and exulting like an untired horse
That cares not for his home.-All shod with steel
We hiss'd along the polish'd ice, in games
Confederate, imitative of the Chase

And woodland pleasures,-the resounding horn,
The Pack loud-bellowing, and the hunted hare.
So through the darkness and the cold we flew,
And not a voice was idle with the din

Meanwhile the precipices rang aloud;
The leafless trees and every icy crag
Tinkled like iron; while the distant hills
Into the tumult sent an alien sound

Of melancholy, not unnoticed, while the stars,
Eastward, were sparkling clear, and in the west
The orange sky of evening died away.

Not seldom from the uproar I retired
Into a silent bay,-or sportively

Glanced sideway, leaving the tumultuous throng,
To cut across the reflex of a Star,

Image, that, flying still before me, gleam'd

Upon the glassy plain: and oftentimes,

When we had given our bodies to the wind,

And all the shadowy banks on either side

Came sweeping through the darkness, spinning still

The rapid line of motion, then at once
Have 1, reclining back upon my heels,
Stopp'd short; yet still the solitary cliffs
Wheel'd by me-even as if the earth had roll'd
With visible motion her diurnal round!
Behind me did they stretch in solemn train,
Feebler and feebler, and I stood and watch'd
Till all was tranquil as a summer sea.

THE LONGEST DAY;

ADDRESSED TO.

LET us quit the leafy Arbour,
And the torrent murmuring by:
Sol has dropp'd into his harbour,
Weary of the open sky.

Evening now unbinds the fetters
Fashion'd by the glowing light;
All that breathe are thankful debtors
To the harbinger of night.

Yet by some grave thoughts attended
Eve renews her calm career;
For the day that now is ended,
Is the Longest of the Year.

Laura! sport, as now thou sportest,
On this platform, light and free;
Take thy bliss, while longest, shortest,
Are indifferent to thee!

Who would check the happy feeling
That inspires the linnet's song?
Who would stop the swallow, wheeling
On her pinions swift and strong?

Yet at this impressive season,
Words which tenderness can speak
From the truths of homely reason,
Might exalt the loveliest cheek;

And, while shades to shades succeeding
Steal the landscape from the sight,
I would urge this moral pleading,
Last forerunner of « Good night!»

SUMMER ebbs;-each day that follows
Is a reflux from on high,
Tending to the darksome hollows
Where the frosts of winter lie.

He who governs the creation, In his providence, assign'd Such a gradual declination To the life of human kind.

Yet we mark it not ;-fruits redden,
Fresh flowers blow, as flowers have blown,
And the heart is loth to deaden
Hopes that she so long hath known.

Be thou wiser, youthful Maiden!
And when thy decline shall come,
Let not flowers, or boughs fruit-laden,
Hide the knowledge of thy doom.

Now, even now, ere wrapp'd in slumber,
Fix thine eyes upon the sea

That absorbs time, space, and number;
Look towards Eternity!

Follow thou the flowing River

On whose breast are thither borne

All Deceived, and each Deceiver,
Through the gates of night and morn;

Through the year's successive portals;
Through the bounds which many a star
Marks, not mindless of frail mortals,
When his light returns from far.

Thus when Thou with Time hast travell'd
Tow'rds the mighty gulf of things,
And the mazy Stream unravell'd
With thy best imaginings;

Think, if thou on beauty leanest,
Think how pitiful that stay,
Did not virtue give the meanest
Charms superior to decay.

Duty, like a strict preceptor,

Sometimes frowns, or seems to frown;
Choose her thistle for thy sceptre,
While thy brow youth's roses crown.

Grasp it,-if thou shrink and tremble,
Fairest Damsel of the green,
Thou wilt lack the only symbol
That proclaims a genuine Queen;

And ensures those palms of honour
Which selected spirits wear,
Bending low before the Donor,
Lord of Heaven's unchanging Year!

Juvenile Pieces.

ADVERTISEMENT.

Or the Poems in this class, « THE EVENING WALK» and << DESCRIPTIVE SKETCHES» were first published in 1793. They are reprinted with some unimportant alterations, that were chiefly made very soon after their

publication. It would have been easy to amend them, in many passages, both as to sentiment and expression, and I have not been altogether able to resist the temptation: but attempts of this kind are made at the risk of injuring those characteristic features, which, after all, will be regarded as the principal recommendation of juvenile poems.

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EXTRACT FROM THE CONCLUSION OF A

POEM,

COMPOSED UPON LEAVING SCHOOL.

DEAR native Regions, I foretell,
From what I feel at this farewell,
That, wheresoe'er my steps shall tend,
And whensoe'er my course shall end,
If in that hour a single tie
Survive of local sympathy,

My soul will cast the backward view,
The longing look alone on you.

Thus, when the Sun, prepared for rest,
Hath gained the precincts of the West,
Though his departing radiance fail
To illuminate the hollow Vale,
A lingering light he fondly throws

On the dear mountain-tops whese first he rose.

AN EVENING WALK,

ADDRESSED TO A YOUNG LADY.

General Sketch of the Lakes-Author's Regret of his
Youth passed amongst them-Short Description of
Noon-Cascade Scene-Noon-tide Retreat-Preci-
pice and sloping Lights-Face of Nature as the Sun
declines Mountain Farm, and the Cock Slate
Quarry Sunset-Superstition of the Country, con-
nected with that Moment-Swans-Female Beggar
-Twilight Sounds-Western Lights-Spirits-Night
-Moonlight-Hope-Night Sounds-Conclusion.

FAR from my dearest Friend, 't is mine to rove
Thro' hare grey dell, high wood, and pastoral cove;
Where Derwent stops his course to rear the roar
That stuns the tremulous cliffs of high Lodore;
Where silver rocks the savage prospect cheer
Of giant yews that frown on Rydal's mere;
Where peace to Grasmere's lonely island leads,
To willowy hedgerows, and to emerald meads;
Leads to her bridge, rude church, and cottaged grounds,
Her rocky sheepwalks, and her woodland bounds;
Where, deep embosom'd, shy' Winander peeps
Mid clustering isles, and holly-sprinkled steeps;
Where twilight glens endear my Esthwaite's shore,
And memory of departed pleasures, more.

Fair scenes with other eyes, than once, I gaze
Upon the varying charm your round displays,
Than when, ere-while, I taught, << a happy child,»
The echoes of your rocks my carols wild:
Then did no ebb of cheerfulness demand
Sad tides of joy from Melancholy's hand;
In youth's keen eye the livelong day was bright,
The sun at morning, and the stars of night,
Alike, when heard the bittern's hollow bill,
Or the first woodcocks roam'd the moonlight hill.

To thoughtless gaiety I coursed the plain,
And hope itself was all I knew of pain.
For then, ev'n then, the little heart would beat
At times, while young Content forsook her seat,

The lines are only applicable to the middle part of that lake.
* In the beginning of winter these mountains are frequented by
woodcocks, which in dark nights retire into the woods.

And wild Impatience, panting upward, show'd
Where, tipp'd with gold, the mountain-summits glow'd.
Alas! the idle tale of man is found
Depicted in the dial's moral round;
With Hope Reflection blends her social rays
To gild the total tablet of his days;

Yet still, the sport of some malignant Pow'r,
Ile knows but from its shade the present hour.

But why, ungrateful, dwell on idle pain?
To show what pleasures yet to me remain,
Say, will my Friend, with unreluctant ear,
The history of a poet's ev'ning hear?

When, in the south, the wan noon, brooding still,
Breathed a pale steam around the glaring hill,
Aud shades of deep-embattled clouds were seen,
Spotting the northern cliffs with lights between;
When, at the barren wall's unshelter'd end,
Where long rails far into the lake extend,
Crowded the shorten'd herds, and beat the tides
With their quick tails, and lash'd their speckled sides;
When school-boys stretch'd their length upon the green;
And round the humming elm, a glimmering scene!
In the brown park, in herds, the troubled deer
Shook the still twinkling tail and glancing ear;
When horses in the sunburnt intake1 stood,
And vainly eyed below the tempting flood,
Or tracked the Passenger, in mute distress,
With forward neck the closing gate to press-
Then, while I wander'd up the huddling rill
Brightening with water-breaks the sombrous ghyll,2
As by enchantment, an obscure retreat
Open'd at once, and stay'd my devious feet.
While thick above the rill the branches close,
In rocky basin its wild waves repose,

Juverted shrubs, and moss of gloomy green,

Cling from the rocks, with pale wood-weeds between;
Save that aloft the subtle sunbeams shine

On wither'd briars that o'er the crags recline,
Sole light admitted here, a small cascade,
Illumes with sparkling foam the impervious shade;
Beyond, along the vista of the brook,

Where antique roots its bustling course o'erlook,

The

eye reposes on a secret bridge3
Half grey, half shagg'd with ivy to its ridge;
Whence hangs, in the cool shade, the listless swain
Lingering behind his disappearing wain.
-Did Sabine grace adorn my living line,
Bandusia's praise, wild Stream, should yield to thine!
Never shall ruthless minister of Death

Mid thy soft glooms the glittering steel unsheath;
No goblets shall, for thee, be crown'd with flowers,
No kid with piteous outcry thrill thy bowers;
The mystic shapes that by thy margin rove
A more benignant sacrifice approve;
A mind, that, in a calm angelic mood
Of happy wisdom, meditating good,
Beholds, of all from her high powers required,
Much done, and much design'd, and more desired,-

The word intake is local, and signifies a mountain inclosure. Ghyll is also, I believe, a term confined to this country; Glen, chyll, and dingle, have the same meaning.

The reader who has made th tour of this country, will recognize, in this description, the features which characterize the lower waterfall in the grounds of Rydale.

Harmonious thoughts, a soul by truth refined,
Entire affection for all human kind.

-Sweet rill, farewell! To-morrow's noon again
Shall hide me, wooing long thy wildwood strain;
But now the sun has gain'd his western road,
And eve's mild hour invites my steps abroad.

While, near the midway cliff, the silver'd kite
In many a whistling circle wheels her flight;
Slant watery lights, from parting clouds, apace
Travel along the Precipice's base;

Cheering its naked waste of scatter'd stone,
By lichens grey, and scanty moss, o'ergrown;
Where scarce the foxglove peeps, or thistle's beard:
And desert stone-chat, all day long, is heard.

How pleasant, as the sun declines, to view
The spacious landscape change in form and hue!
Here, vanish, as in mist, before a flood
Of bright obscurity, hill, lawn, and wood;
There, objects, by the searching beams betray'd,
Come forth, and here retire in purple shade;
Even the white stems of birch, the cottage white,
Soften their glare before the mellow light;
The skiffs, at anchor where with umbrage wide
You chesnuts half the latticed boat-house hide,
Shed from their sides, that face the sun's slant beam,
Strong flakes of radiance on the tremulous stream:
Raised by yon travelling flock, a dusty cloud
Mounts from the road, and spreads its moving shroud;
The shepherd, all involved in wreaths of fire,
Now shows a shadowy speck, and now is lost entire.

Into a gradual calm the zephyrs sink,

A blue rim borders all the lake's still brink:
And now, on every side, the surface breaks
Into blue spots, and slowly-lengthening streaks;
Here, plots of sparkling water tremble bright
With thousand thousand twinkling points of light;
There, waves that, hardly weltering, die away,
Tip their smooth ridges with a softer ray,
And now the universal tides repose,
And, brightly blue, the burnish'd mirror glows,
Save where, along the shady western marge,
Coasts, with industrious oar, the charcoal barge;
The sails are dropp'd, the poplar's foliage sleeps,
And insects clothe, like dust, the glassy deeps.

yon

Their pannier'd train a group of potters goad, Winding from side to side up the steep road; The from peasant, cliff of fearful edge Shot, down the headlong path darts with his sledge; Bright beams the lonely mountain horse illume, Feeding 'mid purple heath, « green rings,» and broom; While the sharp slope the slacken'd team confounds, Downward the pond'rous timber-wain resounds; In foamy breaks the rill, with merry song, Dash'd o'er the rough rock, lightly leaps along; From lonesome chapel at the mountain's feet, Three humble bells their rustic chime repeat; Sounds from the water-side the hammer'd boat; And blasted quarry thunders, heard remote!

Even here, amid the sweep of endless woods, Blue pomp of lakes, high cliffs, and falling floods, 1. Vivid rings of green.--GREENWOOD's Poem on Shooting. Down the rough slope the pond'rous waggon rings."-BEATTIE,

Not undelightful are the simplest charms,
Found by the verdant door of mountain farms.

Sweetly' ferocious, round his native walks,
Pride of his sister-wives, the monarch stalks;
Spur-clad his nervous feet, and firm his tread;
A crest of purple tops his warrior head.
Bright sparks his black and haggard eye-ball hurls
A far, his tail he closes and unfurls;
Whose state, like pine-trees, waving to and fro,
Droops, and o'er-canopies his regal brow;
On tiptoe rear'd, he strains his clarion throat,
Threaten'd by faintly-answering farms remote:
Again with his shrill voice the mountain rings,
While, flapp'd with conscious pride, resound his wings!
Bright'ning the cliffs between, where sombrous pine
And yew-trees o'er the silver rocks recline;
I love to mark the quarry's moving trains,
Dwarf pannier'd steeds, and men, and numerous wains:
How busy the enormous hive within,

While Echo dallies with the various din!
Some (hardly heard their chisels' clinking sound)
Toil, small as pigmies in the gulf profound;
Some, dim between the aëreal cliffs descried,
O'erwalk the slender plauk from side to side:
These, by the pale-blue rocks that ceaseless ring,
Glad from their airy baskets hang and sing.

Hung o'er a cloud, above the steep that rears
An edge all flame, the broad'ning sun appears;
A long blue bar its ægis orb divides,

And breaks the spreading of its golden tides;
And now it touches on the purple steep
That flings his shadow on the pictured deep.
'Cross the calm lake's blue shades the cliffs aspire,
With tow'rs and woods a prospect all on fire;»
The coves and secret hollows, through a ray
Of fainter gold, a purple gleam betray;
The gilded turf invests with richer green
Each speck of lawn the broken rocks between;
Deep yellow beams the scatter'd stems illume,
Far in the level forest's central gloom;
Waving his hat, the shepherd, from the vale,
Directs his winding dog the cliffs to scale,
That, barking busy, 'mid the glittering rocks,
Hunts, where he points, the intercepted flocks.
Where oaks o'erhang the road the radiance shoots
On tawny earth, wild weeds, and twisted roots;
The Druid stones their lighted fane unfold,
And all the babbling brooks are liquid gold;
Sunk to a curve, the day-star lessens still,
Gives one bright glance, and drops behind the hill.

In these secluded vales, if village fame,
Confirmed by silver hairs, belief may claim;
When up the hills, as now, retired the light,
Strange apparitions mock'd the gazer's sight.

A desperate form appears, that spurs his steed Along the midway cliffs with violent speed; Unhurt pursues his lengthen'd flight, while all Attend, at every stretch, his headlong fall.

17 Dolcemente feroce.-Tasso.-In this description of the cock, I remembered a spirited one of the same animal in the Agricalture ou Les Georgiques Françaises, of M. Rossuet, From Thomson. Sec Scott's Critical Essays.

Anon, in order mounts a gorgeous show
Of horsemen shadows winding to and fro;
At intervals imperial banners stream,
And now the van reflects the solar beam,

1

The rear thro' iron brown betrays a sullen gleam;
Lost gradual, o'er the heights in pomp they go,
While silent stands th' admiring vale below;
Till, save the lonely beacon, all is fled,
That tips with eve's last gleam his spiry head.

Now, while the solemn evening shadows sail,
On red slow-waving pinions, down the vale;
And, fronting the bright west, yon oak entwines,
Its darkening boughs and leaves, in stronger lines,
How pleasant near the tranquil lake to stray
Where winds the road along a secret bay :
By rills that tumble down the woody steeps,
And run in transport to the dimpling deeps;
Along the wild meand'ring shore» to view
Obsequious Grace the winding Swan pursue :
He swells his lifted chest, and backward flings
His bridling neck between his towering wings;
In all the majesty of case, divides
And glorying, looks around, the silent tides;
On as he floats, the silver'd waters glow,

Proud of the varying arch and moveless form of snow.
While tender Cares and mild domestic Loves,
With furtive watch pursue her as she moves;
The Female with a meeker charm succeeds,
And her brown little-ones around her leads,
Nibbling the water lilies as they pass,
Or playing wanton with the floating grass.
She, in a mother's care, her beauty's pride
Forgets, unwearied watching every side;
She calls them near, and with affection sweet
Alternately relieves their weary feet;
Alternately they mount her back, and rest
Close by her mantling wings' embraces prest.

Long may ye float upon these floods serene;
Yours be these holms untrodden, still, and green,
Whose leafy shades fence off the blustering gale,
Where breathes in peace the lily of the vale.
Yon Isle, which feels not even the milk-maid's feet,
Yet hears her song, «by distance made more sweet,»
Yon isle conceals your home, your cottage bower,
Fresh water-rushes strew the verdant floor;
Long grass and willows form the woven wall,
And swings above the roof the poplar tall.
Thence issuing often with unwieldy stalk,
With broad black feet ye crush your flow'ry walk;
Or, from the neighbouring water, hear at morn
The hound, the horse's tread, and mellow horn;
Involve your serpent necks in changeful rings,
Roli'd wantonly between your slippery wings,
Or, starting up with noise and rude delight,
Force half upon the wave your cumbrous flight.

Fair Swan! by all a mother's joys caress'd,
Haply some wretch has eyed, and called thee bless'd;
The whilst upon some sultry summer's day
She dragg'd her babes along this weary way;
Or taught their limbs along the burning road
A few short steps to totter with their load.

See description of an appearance of this kind in Clark's Sarvey of the Lakes, accompanied by vouchera of its veracity, that may as the reader.

I see her now, denied to lay her head,

On cold blue nights, in hut or straw-built shed,
Turn to a silent smile their sleepy cry,

By pointing to a shooting star on high:

I hear, while in the forest depth, he sees
The Moon's fix'd gaze between the opening trees,
In broken sounds her elder grief demand,
And skyward lift, like one that prays, his hand,
If, in that country, where he dwells afar,
His father views that good, that kindly star;
-Ah me! all light is mute amid the gloom,
The interlunar cavern, of the tomb.
-When low-hung clouds each star of summer hide,
And fireless are the valleys far and wide,
Where the brook brawls along the painful road,
Dark with bat-haunted ashes stretching broad,
Oft has she taught them on her lap to play
Delighted, with the glow-worm's harmless ray
Toss'd light from hand to hand; while on the ground
Small circles of green radiance gleam around.

Oh! when the sleety showers her path assail,
And roars between the hills the torrent gale.
-No more her breath can thaw their fingers cold,
Their frozen arms her neck no more can fold;
Weak roof a cowering form two babes to shield,
And faint the fire a dying heart can yield!
Press the sad kiss, fond mother! vainly fears
Thy flooded cheek to wet them with its tears;
No tears can chill them, and no bosom warms,
Thy breast their death-bed, coffin'd in thine arms.

Sweet are the sounds that mingle from afar,
Heard by calm lakes, as peeps the folding star,
Where the duck dabbles 'mid the rustling sedge,
And feeding pike starts from the water's edge,
Or the swan stirs the reeds, his neck and bill
Wetting, that drip upon the water still;
And heron, as resounds the trodden shore,
Shoots upward, darting his long neck before.

Now, with religious awe, the farewell light
Blends with the solemn colouring of the night;
'Mid groves of clouds that crest the mountain's brow,
And round the West's proud lodge their shadows throw,
Like Una shining on her gloomy way,

The half-seen form of Twilight roams astray;
Shedding, through paly loopholes mild and small,
Gleams that upon the lake's still bosom fall,
Soft o'er the surface creep those lustres pale
Tracking the fitful motions of the gale.
With restless interchange at once the bright
Wins on the shade, the shade upon the light.
No favour'd eye was e'er allow'd to gaze
On lovelier spectacle in faery days;
When gentle Spirits urged a sportive chase,
Brushing with lucid wands the water's face;
While music, stealing round the glimmering deeps,
Charm'd the tall circle of th' enchanted steeps.
-The lights are vanished from the watery plains:
No wreck of all the pageantry remains.
Unheeded night has overcome the vales:
On the dark earth the baffled vision fails;
The latest lingerer of the forest train,
The lone black fir, forsakes the faded plain;
Last evening sight, the cottage smoke, no more,
Lost in the thicken'd darkness, glimmers hoar;

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